


Practice

by Identiaetslos



Series: Threvellan Collection [10]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Battle Couple, Dancing, F/F, Fluff, Possible smut later, Romance, Some heroes wear pumpkin armor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 21:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17588927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Identiaetslos/pseuds/Identiaetslos
Summary: Threnn teaches Wyn how to dance before Halamshiral





	Practice

“Have you ever been to one of these things?” Wynaelora Lavellan asked. Thunder rumbled just outside the stone walls of the Throne room. Rain pattered down against the old elven stones and the ornate stained glass just behind her head. Wyn picked up an offered cloth from a nearby handmaiden and thanked her while dabbing her wet face and hair.

It was pointless. Both she and Threnn were completely soaked to the bone.

Threnn wrung out her hat near a drain in the floor and cursed as she glanced at the sword clipped to her the belt of her green and orange Inquisition armor. “Bloody thing better not rust on me.”

Wyn hated feeling drenched, and worse, the air in this drafty castle made it cold. Threnn, being her usual sturdy Fereldan self, didn’t complain.

Threnn made a face. “A few times at Anora’s invitation, but...not as a guest.”

Wyn blew out a puff of air and smoothed a hand across her forehead. Her mind raced. “We’re supposed to be at Halamshiral in less than a week. Josie wants me to pretend like I know what I’m doing at this thing. My idea of posture is whatever doesn’t hurt or cause me to fall over, I know how to greet people but among nobility that is apparently different for elves, and don’t get me started on which fork is the right one, I don’t know the first thing about dancing--” Wyn stopped abruptly and flailed her arm. “Madame Vivienne has offered to coach me, but I know exactly how that is going to go.”

Threnn made another face that caused her freckles to wrinkle adorably. She approached and took Wyn’s hands in hers. “When I was a girl, I used to imagine myself as some princess twirling about a ballroom. My mother used to practice with me when she was still alive: Head up, back straight,” Threnn said, pushing and pulling on Wyn to straighten her posture. “Never look at your feet, put your hands in your pockets, lift your head but don’t intimidate. All of that’s been lost on an old soldier like me. Orlesians, especially, put a lot of rubbish into what other people think.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Wyn said cautiously.

Threnn got closer and gathered Wyn into her arms as though to dance with her. “Look at my eyes and follow. One...two...”

Wyn moved with Threnn and instantly stepped on her boots.

Threnn laughed.

“Sorry,” Wyn said dumbly.

“It’s called the Fereldan Two-Step. Orlesians call it something else: Waltz du Larenne or some bullshit, but it’s the same thing and they got it from us.”

“Threnn….” Wyn couldn’t help a giggle as the former Quartermaster started moving again.

Wyn followed suit, struggling to keep up at first until she relaxed into Threnn’s arms and learned to move her feet when Threnn moved her feet, slide her hips when Threnn slid hers. It was simple, timed probably to a basic tune of some sort, elegant, and Threnn was far more skilled than she let on.

Threnn’s eyes were soft, loving, and seemed to undress Wyn the more she moved. She lifted her reddish brow, those emerald irises encouraging. “You are the Inquisitor. Your office is what you make of it. Despite whatever bullshit they tell you, Orlesians respect firm authenticity.”

Wyn couldn’t help a nervous chuckle. Partly at Threnn’s words, and partly the distraction of being so close to the woman she loved. It was easy to forget they were out here in the Throne Room for all to see. “So, if I go in there as is, you’re confident they won’t kill me or laugh in my face. I’m not sure that’s how it works, my love.”

Wyn gasped as Threnn’s movements got more purposeful and the two of them fell into a rhythm played to the tune of the pattering rain and the quiet murmurs of the courtiers that dotted the Inquisitor’s hall as they began to notice. The damp and the cold were soon gone and replaced with the warmth that came with love.

Wyn surrendered to Threnn. The more she moved, the more Wyn began to recognize the movements, and added a few of her own learned in barrooms in Antiva and Ostwick, twisting away from Threnn and back into her arms.

“Your alternative is lessons with Madame de Fer,” Threnn replied, and dipped Wyn low to the ground.

Wyn gasped and clutched onto Threnn. Her body and heart throbbed in Threnn’s sturdy arms. “Can I just take you? Obviously, you remember more of what you’ve forgotten than you think.”

Threnn smiled and righted Wyn. “I’ll be there with you.” Threnn’s words and face were both equally cryptic. She let go of Wyn and behind them was a smattering of applause and then murmurs about Threnn’s unexpected prowess as a dancer.

At that, Wyn frowned. “What do you mean? I thought Cullen assigned you to watch the Skyhold Regiment while we’re gone.”

“Captain Rylen is in, so he will take those duties.”

“Threnn?” Wyn asked cautiously.

Threnn made another face and gestured for Wyn to follow her to the door leading upstairs to their Chambers. “Please don’t be upset, Wyn.”

There was a look of concern on Threnn’s adorable face that melted any urge to be cross. Wyn let out a sigh of relent. Glancing at the curious courtiers, Wyn opened the door to the chambers and pulled Threnn inside. “This isn’t some game, Threnn. The Salon we’ve been invited to isn’t just a fancy party, it’s a battlefield.” She placed her hands on her hips and leaned against the wall just inside the door and looked up at her beloved.

“I know,” Threnn said quietly. “That’s why asked to be assigned to you.”

“Threnn!” Wyn protested. Her mind filled with memories of Haven and this same face staring back at her covered in blood and fear.

Threnn made her way back up the stairs and let out an exasperated puff of air. “I wish you would bloody stop trying to protect me. I’ve spent most of my life out there killing Darkspawn in the name of Ferelden.”

Wyn followed Threnn up the stairs and paused at the landing. She felt small but at the same time the memory of almost losing her made her feel panicked. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I know, and I’m lucky that you made it this far, but how long before your luck runs out? I remember Haven as bright as though it were yesterday!”

Threnn paused. Her shoulders drooped and she turned around, sitting on the end of Wyn’s desk. Her square jaw was taut and she looked to be as much at war with herself as she was Wyn. “Not luck, Wyn. I know how to fight.” She looked ashen, the pale light struggling through the storm clouds amplifying the fact that she looked like she was about to cry.

Wyn had never seen Threnn cry before and she approached, placing a gentle hand on Threnn’s.

“You mention Haven. That was the worst day of my life. I pulled the lever on that trebuchet and then watched in the comfort of safety as the mountain came down on you.”

Thunder rumbled from just above the ramparts.

Wyn removed her gloves and brushed the tears from Threnn’s face and kissed her gentle forehead. “You didn’t kill me. I’m actually alive because of you.”

Threnn looked back at Wyn dumbly.

“Remember that day you took me dancing? Whatever it was that we found was connected to a tunnel that took me to safety. I would never have known if it hadn’t been for you.” Wyn caressed the soft skin of Threnn’s face and kissed on her long scars that ran across her brow.

“That just proves my point,” Threnn said stubbornly. She removed her own leather gloves and took Wyn’s hands. Her skin was soft and clammy from the rain and cold air. “What if something goes wrong?”

Wyn rolled her eyes and let out a laugh. She waved her hand and lit a fire in the hearth and began removing her clothes. “You are aware that where you will be headed will be the heart of Orlais. And to the Empress’ Palace.”

Threnn nodded as she pushed off the desk and removed her cap. Her red hair was soaked to her brow and the light caught her in such a way where she looked heroic. She was. Others might look upon this woman standing in Wyn’s bed chambers and think an ordinary soldier, but here stood the bravest woman in all of Thedas. And the most handsome. “I’ll be in your service, so you can be assured I will behave.”

At that, Wyn smiled and struggled with a leather to her tunic that was close to her neck.

“Here.” Threnn maneuvered her fingers deftly and loosened it. She smelled distractingly wonderful, Like dirt and leather and steel and that faint smell that Wynaelora had filed away as ‘Ferelden’. And there was that sweet promise of not being alone in one of the most dreaded parts of Thedas. 

Wyn closed her eyes and leaned into Threnn. She was right as always, but the idea of Threnn accompanying her into what was certainly going to be a disaster still didn’t sit comfortably with her.

Threnn paused, as if startled, and wrapped her arms around Wyn, holding her close. Wyn loved this feeling, surrounded by the woman she loved. What would be worse? Dying in Halamshiral, knowing she’d never see this face again, or seeing it and being able to do nothing to protect her from the horrors certain horrors waiting for them there?

Wyn opened her eyes and stared into Threnn’s face, scars everywhere; trophies to past battles narrowly escaped. She was a fighter, a warrior, and the love present in Threnn’s eyes was empowering.

“Okay,” Wyn said quietly.

Thunder rumbled once more. The sky had grown darker and wind pushed the wind against the glass of the large doors shut against the balcony.

Threnn smiled softly at her victory.

“But on these conditions. You are to serve as the Captain of my personal guard. Obey all orders given to you from Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana as though there were given by me. Do not talk to anyone who is not in the Inquisition unless otherwise instructed or in the course of your duties,” Wyn ordered.

“As you command, Inquisitor,” Threnn replied softly.

“Remember: No matter what happens there, I love you. More than I know how to express in your silly language.”

Threnn looked as though a chill had come over her for a moment and then cupped Wyn’s face in her massive hands and kissed her lips. “I love you.”


End file.
